Alaska: What Worked, What Didn't Work

BMW R1200GS - I can't say enough good things about this motorcycle. There's a reason it's won all those Motorcycle of the Year and other awards since its inception. Often dubbed the "Swiss Army Knife of Motorcycles," I think that's selling the bike a bit short. By calling it the perfect do-everything motorcycle, you imply that it does nothing exceptionally well, like a multitool you carry so that you don't have to carry a variety of tools that would actually do the job right. Well, IMO, the GS pretty much does everything right. The riding position is extremely comfortable and natural, both when sitting and when standing up. Power and performance is good. It handles well on and off road. Excellent brakes (though I wish they weren't linked). Great suspension. Low maintenance (I definitely did not miss having to lube a chain every day!). Good gas mileage (42-45 mpg). I honestly can't think of a better motorcycle for traveling long distance, especially where road conditions might be less than ideal. I might go so far as to say if I could only have one motorcycle, the GS would be it ... but that would limit my offroad ability just a bit too much, I think. Something lighter, like my Dakar, would probably have to be my choice for a one-and-only motorcycle - maybe the new F800GS. But for most riding situations, I can't think of a better, more versatile mount than the R1200GS. Also (for whatever this observation's worth), most of the bikes I saw in the Great White North were GSs. Mine now has over 33,000 miles on it. A good scrubbing, some scheduled maintenance, a few new stickers, and she'll be ready to go on another adventure.

METZLER TOURANCE - What a great tire! I'll never run anything else on the GS. Knobbies would have been nice on the Haul Road, but, really, the Tourances handled everything admirably. And they certainly rule the roost when it comes to longevity. The rear Tourance that I removed with over 8,000 miles on it would have come damn close to getting me home. The front, now with nearly 11,000 miles on it, looks like it'll be around for quite a while yet. 15,000 miles doesn't seem unreasonable.

ROK STRAPS - Not to intentionally go for the easy cliché, but ROK Straps rock! I'd heard good things about these straps for years, but couldn't see spending nearly $20 a set for them, not when bungee cords are so cheap. Finally decided to try a set of ROK straps for this trip, though, initially buying one set to test, then going back for two more. For the Alaska trip, I used two sets and carried the third as a spare. These straps are great: easy to use, never worked loose, shock-corded at one end for easy adjustment, attach really well to the bike, etc. Love 'em and don't expect I'll travel without them from here on out.

DRY BAGS - I've had good luck with cheap dry bags. The ones I used on this trip are H2-ZERO bags. Kept all my stuff nice and dry. The red one I've been using now for several years and it's holding up well. Bought it for about $35 at a sporting goods store. The blue one I bought new for this trip. Ordered it online (look here) for less than twenty bucks. Can't beat that. The blue one rolls down from the end - like a duffle bag - so it's a bit less convenient than the red bag.

TWISTED THROTTLE'S CROSSBAR - I bought and installed this crossbar as a convenient mount for my GPS. The crossbar mounts to the handlebar with aluminum straps at each end. Neither strap survived the vibration of the Haul Road. The bar was only about $20, but, hey, save your money.

CAMERAS -- I carried two cameras with me, my Nikon D60 D-SLR and an Olympus 1030SW. Most of the wildlife shots, especially those taken at a distance, were taken with my Nikon. I carried two lenses, an 18-55mm and a 55-200mm, generally using the bigger lens. In fact, the only time I used the smaller lens on the Nikon was during our plane ride at Denali. For quick shots, I generally grabbed the little Olympus point and shoot. I cannot say enough good things about this camera. The SW in the model number refers to it being both waterproof and shockproof. Diving in the Turks and Caicos Islands this spring, I tested the waterproofness of the camera, shooting pics of stingrays as we were feeding them in the surf, and the camera passed with flying colors - though I never submerged it more than a few feet under water (it says it's waterproof to 33 feet, I think). A quick rinse in fresh water later at the hotel and the camera was just fine. That alone is enough to sell me on the camera ... but let me tell you about the shockproof test I inadvertently put it through. While riding at about 70 mph in Canada, I dropped the camera. I had pulled it out to take a quick photo while moving and then had simply slipped it into the map pocket on my tankbag, rather than back into the tankbag itself. It rode there for a while, but then somehow slipped from the map pocket and fell. I felt something bounce off my thigh, grabbed for it but missed, and then looked in my mirror to see it doing that horrible tumbling across the highway behind me. I stopped and went back for it, thinking the camera was probably toast but nonetheless wanting the memory card with my pics. To my surprise, with the exception of a few bumps and bruises, the camera was just fine. Works like new and everything. Now, I'm sure by "shockproof," Olympus is actually referring to a single impact drop from a height of three or four feet - not a drop and tumble from a motorcycle doing 70 mph. The fact that the camera was wearing one of those protective rubber condom thingies probably helped a great deal, at least with the cosmetic blemishes you might expect the camera to acquire from such a tumble. I'm utterly amazed at the 1030SW's toughness. And it takes great pictures!

WOLFMAN EXPLORER TANKBAG - I love tankbags. There's one on nearly every motorcycle I own. I'd always heard good things about Wolfman products and decided to try one for the GS. It's the perfect bag for that bike. Fits great, doesn't get in my way, and holds plenty of stuff. My only complaint about Wolfman is that they sell the rain cover for the bag separately (IMO, for what they charge, the bag should be included), but get this (being the cheap SOB that I am, you know I didn't spring for the rain cover): despite the near constant rain endured on the Alaska trip, the things in my tankbag remained mostly dry. Yeah, there was a bit of dampness, but never enough to concern me, even with expensive camera gear in the bag. I had brought along some plastic trash bags to wrap around the tankbag and anything else I got worried about, but I never used them.

SLEEPING BAG - If I were to do this trip again, I'd leave the sleeping bag behind. Never touched it, even those nights when we stayed in cabins where we feared bedding might not be provided. Not carrying the bag wouldn't have saved a lot on weight, but it would have freed up a large space on the back of the bike. Same for the towel that I carried, figuring I would need it somewhere. Toward the end of the trip, I actually wound up shredding my towel and using it for rags (I'd brought an old, throw-away towel just for that purpose). I never used the swimming trunks I brought either (but that's because we didn't visit the hot springs as planned) and I could have done without the sneakers I dragged along - so those are a couple other items
that would have lightened my load a bit and freed up some space on the bike.

WIDDER ELECTRIC VEST - I've praised my electric gear before and must do so again. If you keep your core temp up, your heart keeps sending warm blood to your extremities. It's as simple as that. I never travel anywhere where it might drop below 50 degrees without my electric vest. It got used a LOT on this trip.

RAIN GEAR - Over the years, I've come to the realization that everything that was once waterproof eventually fails. My Cortech boots used to keep my feet nice and dry, but they failed miserably on this trip, leaving me with generally wet and very cold feet. (I have a brand new pair of Sidi Discovery boots at home, but haven't broken them in and didn't want to risk being uncomfortable on the trip. They would have been a better boot choice and probably would have kept my feet dry.) The Cortechs are about 3 years old now, have seen tens of thousands of miles of riding, and are essentially my daily footwear around the office since I ride most days of the week ... so, color them worn out. Great boots, and I will buy a new pair to replace them, but evidently the Gortex-like lining just doesn't do its job forever. Same problem with the Fieldsheer pants I was wearing. They used to keep me high and dry, even in a steady, day-long downpour. No more. When it was raining bad on this trip, I broke out a rainsuit, which generally kept me dry (except for my feet). I've had these fail after a couple years of hard use, too, so I think the best strategy is to buy the cheapest rain suits that you can find and toss them quite often. The only problem with the rainsuit is that they don't breathe and are hot to wear, and if you're stubborn like me, you generally wait until you're already wet before you pull over to don the damn thing.

SHOEI MULTITEC HELMET - I developed something of a love-hate relationship with this helmet. First of all, Shoei's sizing just seems off to me. I generally wear a large in helmets, however, even Shoe's medium size is too loose on me. Second, the helmet fogs up horribly. This was a constant problem on the trip. Third complaint: a cold driving rain somehow always seemed to find my left ear. For the life of me, I could not figure out how rain was getting into that helmet, but it did. Not just in my ear, but rain would also run down the inside of the visor from time to time. The visor is also extremely tight and difficult to raise, partially because the plastic tab is so small and difficult to locate while wearing gloves but mostly because the damn mechanism is so tight. I hoped it would loosen up over the course of the trip, but it really never did. Having said all that, the helmet's modular function works extremely well, raising and lowering easily, even while wearing gloves, and locking in place with a nice, firm "click." (Danny was constantly beating on his Shark helmet to get the chin piece to lock into place. His words: "If you treat this helmet like a cheap piece of crap, it does all right.") Ventilation in the Shoei was excellent. It was reasonably quiet. And fit and finish are up to Shoei's usual standards. It's not going to be an around-the-town helmet for me, but you'll probably see it on future trips.

FOGTECH - This stuff is overpriced crap. Save your money. I originally bought it because of a glowing review at Webbikeworld (and for that reason I no longer trust their reviews, as they generally fail to put products through any sort of real world test; for example, when they tested this stuff, they held visors over a boiling pot of water to determine whether the visor steamed up). You apply it to the inside of your visor and let it dry. Problem is - and I've tried this on several visor brands now - it leaves a squirrelly haze that interferes with your vision. I'm sure at that point, it probably does keep the visor from fogging up, but if you're looking through a distorted coke-bottle-glasses miasma, who cares? So, what you wind up doing is trying to wipe away the haze, eventually having to resort to using a wet rag. Then you notice that the Fogtech packet says "To remove, use water." Crap. Utter crap. Want to try some? I still have a few packets I'll gladly sell you.

PIAA 510 OFFROAD LIGHTS - Great while they lasted, the Haul Road claimed both bulbs in my PIAAs. Vibration would be my guess. This was incredibly frustrating because Danny had mounted cheap, $15 Walmart lights on his Strom ... AND THEY WORKED JUST FINE. I spent something like $180 on the PIAAs - top-of-the-line OFFroad equipment, made to endure that sort of vibration and abuse, right? - and they failed me. Does PIAA use cheap bulbs? You wouldn't know it from the replacement costs. A single PIAA replacement bulb costs more than Danny's entire lighting setup. WTF? To make matters worse, the last week of the trip, the headlight bulb in the GS went out as well. I was down to only my high beam until I stopped somewhere in Canada and bought a replacement bulb for the GS's headlight. I figured the PIAAs could wait until I got home (besides, I needed an offset screwdriver to open the lens and I hadn't brought one). While the PIAAs were working, I think they did a great job of making me visible to motorists, which is why I had installed them (It's not like we had any darkness to ride in up there).

BEAD POPPER - Funny how something I initially thought was so worthless would ultimately become an essential part of my tool kit. If you're doing tire changes by hand, you need one of these. It's sure a lot quicker than a lot of insane jumping up and down, running over the tire with a vehicle, or any other crazy bead-breaking techniques I've seen tried.

DEET - Really works. I had some Deep Woods Off wipes in little one-time-use packets. The mosquitoes thought that was pretty funny. "Hey, loan me one of those wipes, so I can freshen up a bit, eh?" Danny brought some Deet and just a little bit of that stuff had the skeeters hovering and buzzing angrily, terrified to land on your flesh. You know what else worked? Those mosquito coil thingies that you light. When we stayed at the Moose Creek Lodge in their cabin, the ladies were thoughtful enough to provide one. You could light it for 15 minutes or so and it would clear the room of skeeters like magic. We swiped what was left of the coil and took it with us, using it several more times on the trip.

GARMIN ZUMO GPS - What an awesome piece of technology. Don't leave home without a GPS. Never had a lick of trouble with mine ... well, except for the fact that for some strange reason the display switches into night mode within a certain range of the Arctic Circle. The first time it happened, I thought it was dust fooling the daylight sensor, but then when it happened again crossing the Arctic Circle, I realized it was some bizarre firmware bug. Didn't even help changing the settings to permanent daylight display mode; the GPS still went into night time mode around the Arctic Circle, clearing up on its own a certain distance away.

FREE WIRELESS INTERNET - More prevalent than you might think, even in the Great White North. The real problem on a trip like this is finding the time and energy to use it. I'd also brought along a book to read ... never opened it. Strange, my Wild Turkey American Honey got used up in the first week...

CREDIT CARDS - For some inexplicable reason, the Canadians will put all these bogus "pending" charges on your credit cards when you use them. If you're checking your account online, you'll see these appear in totally random amounts ranging from 80-90 bucks to a couple hundred. They'll be labeled as "pending." Check again a day or two later and the pending charge will have been replaced with the actual charge, say a ten dollar tank of gas or whatever. Don't know why they do this. I guess when you swipe the card, it authorizes up to a certain amount. It's probably an even, logical amount in Canadian dollars, but then gets converted to US currency, hence the random and bizarre figure. Later, the actual charge comes in from the merchant, replacing the authorized/pending amount. Anyway, my point (I do have one) is not to panic if you see this going on, think someone has stolen your card number and is running up charges on your credit card, and call to have the card canceled. Remember, you're on vacation. Don't worry; be happy.

CANADIAN CURRENCY - Don't try to slip the cashier at McDonald's a few Canadian coins when you pay for your Big Mac. He'll panic, call for the store manager, and damn near bring in Homeland Security to figure out what kinda commie bastard you are. How self-centered are we here in the States? Walk into the smallest business in Canada and hand them U.S. currency. They won't bat an eye. They'll take it, figure out the exchange rate, and count back your change in Canadian money. I've experienced the same thing in Mexico and other countries. But just try to pay for something in the States with foreign currency ... Can't be done.

MARVIN THE MOOSE - He really did know his way around up north. Danny kept making wrong turns, so maybe I should have put Marvin on his bike...?

Alaska: Day 21 (25 June 09)

Up at the crack of dawn again, I got an early start, hitting the road a little before 7, early enough that there were still a number of deer out on the road south of Durango. No problem, I was paying attention.

My original plans were to cut east across northern New Mexico on Hwy 64, a ride I've made many times before through Chama and Taos and Cimarron Canyon and so on. In fact, I'd originally planned to stay at the Eklund Hotel in Clayton, NM, an historic old place discovered on my last trip out this way with Greg and Elaine. But the trip was winding down and I wanted to be home. I realized now that I should have spent more time in Alaska. Here, this close to home, the road was all too familiar and fast losing its appeal. I was ready to see the family, get kisses from my dogs, sleep in my own bed, etc. And it was getting hot. Before the day was out, I would really miss the Arctic temperatures I'd left behind.

Anyway, I followed Hwy 550 south of Durango toward Farmington. The Rockies dropped down into the arroyos and mesas Dan Fogelberg loved to sing about. I passed through the town of Bloomfield, trying for the life of me to remember the mile marker where my Tiger's engine had blown up several years ago and left me stranded. (It's in that ride report.) Couldn't quite pinpoint the spot, though. Also couldn't see far enough to the west to spot Shiprock, which kinda disappointed me as I always enjoy seeing that singular, unmistakable spire rising from the surrounding desert. Somewhere along the way, someone asked me if I'd heard that Michael Jackson had died. I shrugged. Who cares? Then I was told that Farrah Fawcett had lost her battle with cancer. That made me sad.

550 carried me down through Cuba, where I gave a moment's thought to seeking out a particularly difficult part of Hwy 126 that had given Gregger fits years ago on his VFR. I've always wanted to verify that the road probably wasn't that difficult at all and that Greg was just being a whiney-wuss. No matter how many times I pass through there, though, I never seem to manage to do that. Didn't this time either, as I had my eye set on I-40 and a quick ass-hauling for OKC. So I eventually rolled into Albuquerque, grabbed the hated interslab and opened up the throttle for the home stretch.

Good gawd was it ever hot! 105 degrees on the interstate. What had happened while I was gone? Where were the thirties, forties, and fifties of Alaska? The only way I could survive was to stop every hundred miles, buy a big bottle of cold water, pour half of it down my throat and the other half down my collar. At one such stop, some nerd with his pretty wife sitting next to him rolled down the window on his air conditioned SUV and said, "Aren't you hot in that gear?" I wanted to bounce my empty water bottle off his head, but instead just smiled and patiently explained how, having been down a couple times in my life, I valued the skin on my body. He gave me a "whatever," roll-of-the-eyes kinda look, rolled up his window, and drove off. Guess he was really wanting to hear me bitch and moan about how uncomfortable I was riding in the heat so that he could feel good about riding around in his boring (but air-conditioned) SUV. Truth, though? It wasn't that bad. Riding a motorcycle - especially on a trip like this - has more than its fair share of discomfort: heat, cold, rain, your ass screaming at you to get off, etc. I'll trade that discomfort any day to travel in the way that I've come to love so much. I was alive in that heat (even though it was killing me!), just as I'm alive any time I'm on a bike. You couldn't pay me to trade the discomfort for the boring interior of that SUV. And what irritated Mr "Hey, aren't you hot?" is that he knew that. He wished he was in my place and had hoped my answer would at least to some extent abate those desires and perhaps show the wifey how much better off they were in that SUV. "Look at this dumbass," he'd probably told her, hoping I'd confirm the misery he'd hoped I was enduring.

Anyway ... Durango to OKC. 765 miles. Definitely a long day. I rolled through my neighborhood about 8:30. As always, there was no one outside to notice. Nobody to wonder where I'd traveled to have gotten the GS so incredibly filthy. Three weeks, people! I've been gone for three whole weeks, but I guess you didn't even notice? Over 10,000 miles to Alaska and back - the farthest I've ever ventured on a motorcycle (and I'm reminded now how that had hit me one day in Alaska, all at once, a "Holy crap, even if I wanted to be home right now and turned in that direction, it would take me 8 to 10 days of riding just to get there!").

The door was up, so nobody heard me pull into the garage. I spent a few minutes with Lucky Dog, mostly just savoring the sensation of standing on my own property again, the joy of seeing my other bikes just as I'd left them there in the garage. Gracie, my mastiff, was outside, too, but apparently she'd forgotten who I was in three weeks' time and wouldn't come close, running around behind the house to hide (you've never seen a bigger fraidy-cat than that dog). It would take her a few hours to warm back up to me. Finally I went on in the house where everyone was excited to see me.

I was home.

I'd ridden my motorcycle all the way to Deadhorse, Alaska and back.

Wonder where I should go next? Heh heh.

Love my GS!

Alaska: Day 20 (24 June 09)

Very strange dream last night. I dreamed that Danny and I were riding on flying horses. These weren't Pegasus-like horses with wings -- just regular ponies, except they could fly. Call 'em organic motorcycles.

In the dream, there was a third rider with us. Not sure who he was, but it seemed like he was a guide of sorts, leading on his own flying stallion, showing us the best roads. Touring the scenic countryside of (presumably) Idaho, we passed fields and fields of cattle until we came upon one particular pasture in which there lay the largest bull I have ever seen. I made some comment about the size of the beast and how I hoped he would stay in his corral, to which our guide said, "No worries, that bull's too damn big to fly. Just watch this." With a cowboy hoot and a holler, he plummeted from the sky, diving at the enormous bull. Waving his hat (guess we didn't have helmets), war-whooping, he proceeded to chase the bull around the field, doing touch-and-go's behind the beast, enraging it as it sought to escape the antagonizing horse and rider.

This went on for some time until, suddenly, the bull proved our guide wrong, launching itself into the air. It didn't fly high and it didn't stay up long, but it flew none-the-less. Turning, the bull hooked the horse and rider and sent them tumbling. I remember quite vividly in the dream: the pinwheeling rider, arms and legs all akimbo, falling from the sky, then cartwheeling in a bloody, bone-shattering tumble across the ground. It was clear from the fall, the way he hit the ground, and the heap in which his body finally came to rest, that the rider was dead.

That's all I remember of the dream, but it was enough to set me on edge the next morning. As I passed signs in Idaho, Utah, and Colorado saying "Open Range," I kept a keen eye out for that bull.

Never saw the bull, but I was damn near taken out by an 18-wheeler that lost a hub cap (I think that's what it was) as it approached me from the opposite direction in a big 55 mph sweeper. The hub cap, if that's what it was, looked an old style derby or bowler hat -- only it was made of chrome. I was doing about 70 in the curve when it came rolling at me on edge (what would be the brim of the hat). I could just imagine it hitting some bump in the road and going airborne to stike me across the throat, decapitating me at worst, slicing through my jugular at best. I adjusted my lean angle to avoid it, but then it did hit a bump, not bouncing into the air, but changing its trajectory. It was now on a bee-line for my front wheel. I leaned harder, diving to the inside of the curve as the truck screamed past -- the driver probably unaware he'd launched a deadly missile at me -- and the hub cap missed my front wheel by about a foot. Whew!

461 miles today. All backroads. Some of the most scenic roads I know, passing through Moab, UT, then east to Ridgeway and Ouray, CO, where I thought about stopping in at the nekkid hot springs (aka Orvis Hot Springs) -- some of you might remember the place from Pierre's ride report (you can find it on my website, of course). Two years ago, Hwy 550 out from Ouray to Silverton was in horrible shape and my buddy Greg vowed not to ride it again because it was too scary, but today I found it newly paved, smooth as glass, grippy as Gorilla Tape, and absolutely glorious. The GS and I howled through 10, 15, and 25 mph switchbacks with no shoulders, no guardrails, and thousand foot penalties (blow a curve here and you're quite simply D.E.A.D.). I really needed my CBR, but the GS did me proud. It's an extremely capable bike and I had a great ride.

Gassing up in Silverton, some guy in a pickup struck up a conversation, asking where I'd been. I told him I'd just come down from Alaska. "Oh? I did that on a Guzzi several years ago." He struck out his chest and boasted that he'd gone all the way to the Arctic Circle. "You get that far?" he asked. I smiled and told him the GS and I had gone to Deadhorse, as far as you can go without dropping into the Arctic Ocean, some 250 miles north of the Arctic Circle. "Oh? On that big bike? You rode all the way up the Haul Road?" "That's right," I told him. "How many times did you drop it?" he asked. I refrained from smacking him upside the head and simply told him that the GS had never been dropped, not on the Haul Road or anywhere else. Then it was time to make tracks.

I stopped in Durango for the night. The entire town was booked up. After trying four different hotels and thinking I would have to press on, someone said they thought the Ramada still had a couple rooms. The GS and I flew down the street and checked, finally acquiring the very last room at the Ramada for $130 a night. It was a nice room, but I much prefered my $40 room at the Amber Inn in Bliss.

No photos. Never touched the cameras in fact. I was having too much fine riding the twisties.

Alaska: Day 19 (23 June 09)

My friend Crazytrain (of ZZR1200 fame) has long said that, having ridden all over the country -- including awesome roads like Deal's Gap, Arkansas, etc -- that in his opinion some of the best riding in the USA is in western Idaho. All I knew of Idaho was that crappy Lost River region in eastern Idaho that I'd ridden with Greg a couple years ago. Swore I would never return. But western Idaho was reputed to be different...

I can say now that western Idaho is everything Crazytrain said it was. Just incredible. Very little traffic and hundreds of miles of beautiful sweepers following rivers like the Knife and Salmon. Beautiful country and fantastic roads. I took the new Tourance to the edge without ever feeling I was really pushing the envelope. Just an easy rhythm, left to right and back, over and over again, in a nice day of sunshine and blue skies.

At a gas station somewhere, though, I happened to notice a 1/2-inch cut in my front tire. Spitting on it, I watched as an air bubble grew very, very slowly. Not much of a leak, but I'd have to keep an eye on it. Tire pressure was still good for now.

With an early start (on the road by 7), I did an easy 564 miles of backroads, eventually stopping in Bliss, Idaho for the night. When I called home, the conversation went something like this:

bahwife: "Where are you, Brian?"

bah: "I'm in Bliss."

bahwife: "Yes, dear, I know how much you enjoy riding your motorcycle, but where are you?"

[rim shot!]

The Amber Inn in Bliss was great. Comfy bed. Cable TV. Free wireless. All for $40.

Tomorrow I'll head into Utah, slipping through Moab, then on to Ouray, Colorado and points south.

A small cut in my front tire. Haul Road damage or something more recent? Have to keep an eye on it.

Western Idaho. Nothing but curves forever.

The GS loved every minute of it. I was, indeed, in bliss.

Alaska: Day 18 (22 June 09)

The next morning, we were off and running at our usual 9:30 or so. This would be our last day riding together. I needed to change my back tire, though. Remembering that there were several bike shops in Cranbrook (Greg and I had stopped there 2 years ago, so he could buy some warmer gloves), I took the exit and headed into town, thinking it'd be worth it to pay someone $25 or $30 to mount the tire for me. We whipped into Honda Powerhouse on the main drag in Cranbrook and were met by the owner's son Jared. Jared was super nice, but, unfortunately, their mechanic was out for the day. He suggested we try the Kawasaki shop down the road and offered to call and make sure they had someone on hand to mount the tire. When he called them, though, they wanted $75 to do the job. Screw that. I can do it myself.

Since it was pouring down rain outside (what else is new, eh?), I asked Jared if we could pull the bikes into their shop, out of the weather. He was happy to oblige, opening the shop up for us and offering the use of their compressor, the mechanic's tools, and anything else we might need. What a great guy! They even had a tire machine, which, had Danny and I only known how to use it, would have made things super easy. We mounted the tire the old fashioned way, though. No trouble. I'd put 8,000 miles on the Tourance and it still had tread, maybe 1,500 more miles of life in it. Great tires, those Metzler Tourances.

With my tire off, I decided to check my rear brake pads because they'd been grinding. Turned out I was down to metal on metal, so I pulled out the spare pads which I'd packed along and installed them. Danny's pads were also shot, but he'd neglected to bring replacements. Jared checked their stock, but didn't have anything to fit the V-Strom. Danny could just stay off his rear brake until he got home. I didn't have that option on the Beemer, as the brakes are linked.

Danny's front tire was also looking pretty shabby. Jared had a replacement in stock, so Danny bought it from him and we mounted that as well. It was another Trailwing, and we'd already decided the Trailwings are crapola, but what'r'ya gonna do, eh?

Thanks again to Jared. He was incredibly helpful and accomodating. If you're ever in Cranbrook, BC, be sure and stop in at Honda Powerhouse. If Jared had only been able to stop the rain...

We left out of Cranbrook and hit the US border. "Welcome back to the United States," said the customs agent and I thanked him. It felt good to no longer have to recalibrate kph to mph in my head. Danny was determined to make I-90 by dark, so that he could press for home. I was wet and cold and in no hurry by the time we reached Kalispell. It was about 9 pm Oklahoma time and I figured if I stopped there I'd be able to make a phone call or two before family and friends starting going to bed. I pulled into a Motel 6 for a room, while Danny pressed on alone. We said our goodbyes in the parking lot, both of us knowing it would be extremely weird riding on our own after so many days on the road together. Danny would press on the Interslab and be home in two days, while I would ride my original route through western Idaho, then into Colorado and New Mexico, sticking to fun, twisty backroads.

Danny signs for his brand new Bridgestone Trailwing -- you can see how excited he is to be the proud owner of another one of those tires. Thanks for everything, Jared!

Alaska: Day 17 (21 June 09)

Summer Solstice, Father's Day, and my son's birthday, all rolled into one wet Sunday. Intended to call my son, but naturally I didn't have a cell phone signal. He originally wanted to come along to Alaska (riding my Dakar) and there were many times I thought it would have been really nice to have him along.

Enjoyed the Icefields Parkway between Jasper and Banff for the second time. At one point, we left the rain behind and the sun painted a lovely rainbow on a nearby peak. I only wish my photo had done a better job of capturing the vibrant colors. Could probably tweak it a bit in Photoshop, but I'm uploading all my photos here untouched.

Finally got a very bad photo of a mother black bear and her cubs. She had three cubs, even though you can only see two in my photo. Very poor photo again -- it was raining and she headed into the woods with her cubs just like every other other mother bear we've seen.

We stopped for the night at The Crossings, a really nice lodge located between Jasper and Banff. Rooms there are pretty expensive, but I bargained with the girl at the desk, pointing out to her that they weren't very busy. Better to rent me a room at a reduced rate and at least make some money. "Besides," I told her, "we're tired and you don't really want to make me ride all the way to Banff, do ya?" I think I was flirting with her a bit too much, though, because she got confused and accidentally charged like $350 to my credit card.

Danny's in a hurry to get home, so we've been talking about splitting off in a day or so. He'll be taking the interstate back once we hit the States tomorrow, and I don't really feel like trading the end of my trip for a couple boring days riding the slab. Before we part, though, I probably need to change my rear tire. The Tourance looks like it might actually get me home, but better safe than sorry.

A promise of no more rain...?

Mother and 2 of 3 cubs.

Alaska: Day 16 (20 June 09)

Another wet day spent making tracks south and east. 451 miles. We both thought it was more when we stopped in Smithers. Wanted to get farther, but we needed to dry out. I've scrapped the plan to head down through upper Washington State and we're going to retrace our route through Jasper and Banff.

We darted back into Alaska briefly to visit Hyder. Not much to see. There's not even a U.S. border crossing -- guess Uncle Sam doesn't care if you slip into Hyder undetected. It's not like there's anywhere you can go, I guess. We rode in, looked around for 2 minutes, and turned around and rode out -- didn't feel the need to get "Hyderized" or anything. Crossing back into Canada (3 minutes after we'd left), the customs agent examined my passport and asked all the usual questions about accepting packages from someone else, firearms, merchandise that I intended to sell in Canada, etc. I said, "Dude, I never even got off the bike ... just rode down to the end of the street there and turned around and came back." He acted like that was pretty common.

Hyder, Alaska. You can just about see the entire town in this photo.

Bear Glacier again.

Finally got a photo of a fox. This was about the fourth one I had seen, but all the others had run into the woods before I could take thier picture. This little fellow was adorable and in no hurry to vacate the premises. I was pretty pleased with this shot.

He did eventually take his leave, though. I also never got a photo of a moose -- saw plenty, but they were far too timid. Only one we ever got close to, Danny kinda chased it into the woods with his motorcycle. And I never got a pic of a porkypine* even though I saw 3 or 4 of them. There was one porkypine who scurried over to a culvert when Danny zoomed past him (without seeing him). I stopped. "You're going to run into that culvert as soon as I pull out my camera, aren't you?" "Oh, no, " he said, "you go ahead and get out your camera, I'll just sit right here for you." So I got out the camera. The porkypine smiled, "You want me to say 'cheese' or what?" I turned on the camera and removed the lens cap. Raised the camera. Pointed it at him. He immediately darted into the culvert. Bastard.

*Yes, I know the correct spelling is porcupine. I like my spelling better.